


Becoming A Savior (Part 1?)

by Fanfiction_Fanatic



Series: Becoming A Savior [1]
Category: Negan - Fandom, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10466082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfiction_Fanatic/pseuds/Fanfiction_Fanatic
Summary: The reader, who is a lone survivor, stumbles upon Negan and his group in the woods. What she thinks is a shake-down, turns out to be a huge change in her life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I am a huge fan of the Walking Dead, and I love reading fan fictions around Negan (I adore the character XD). I decided to write my own fan fiction on it, and I'd love to make it into a series so let me know if I should!

I pushed quietly through the woods, darting my eyes from side to side. I heard voices in many directions, some of them singing a simple note whistle. The heaviness of my backpack kept me closer to the leaf-covered ground, providing better cover. But the crunching of the dead leaves easily gave away my position. My heart was beating rapidly, as I heard a deep laugh from a man. I spun around, but saw no one.

Suddenly a woman's desperate scream pierced my soul, sending a shiver down my spine. Like a frightened cat, I scurried up the nearest tree, clawing at the bark to get up to a high branch. From the branch I sat perched, scanning the forest. Another scream from the same woman rang out, and I heard the thumping of footsteps. I spotted the source of the screams, through the tree leaves I saw someone lying on the ground, and a black shadow figure beating them. Surrounding the victim, a woman, were men. Some with beards, but they were all clean. _Thrivers_.

That’s what I called survivors that lived amongst civilizations. I had been on my own since the world went to shit. I survived just fine on my own. It was easier, nobody to take care of, and nobody you had to decide to trust. People are more dangerous than the dead, which is why I avoided places like The Hilltop; a community on the edge of my woods filled with people. Thrivers.

The man attacking the woman stopped, and laughed. He shook his weapon, which looked like a stick of some sort. He shouted something, and he walked away, his disciples following him. I cautiously waited on my branch for about 10 minutes, waiting for them to leave. The woman was dead, for she was not moving. But I noticed she had a leather bag attached to her. I no longer heard the Thrivers, so I carefully jumped down from my branch. I raced over to the body with minimal stealth, and froze when I reached her.

Her head was completely bashed in, only leaving a splattered pile of skull and brain on the damp, muddy ground. I shook the image out of my mind, holding back my urge to vomit. I darted for her bag. I opened it with desperation. Inside was medicine, a few apples and a pocket knife or two. I took them out and was transferring them to my backpack, when I heard a familiar click in my ear.

“Don’t move, bitch.” An angry man’s voice hissed behind me. I tightened my jaw, as I slowly rose my arms. “Fine, stand up. SLOWLY.”

I did as he said, and turned around. A hideous man’s face was shown to me. He was young, and looked like Two-Face. Part of his face was badly burned, and had tried to heal itself over time. Men slowly started appearing, surrounding me from the woods. All sorts of guns were pointed at my body. The man was glaring at me, and I knew why.

I spent my life covering my face with a scarf, like a hijab. I felt safer that way. I couldn’t be identified. My scarf was black and tan, making for the perfect camouflage as well. It protected me from blood splatter from the infected, and from facial sunburns.

“Take it off,” the man ordered, and I glared daggers into him.

“No.” I hissed. He stepped closer with his pistol.

“Dwight,” A deep, husky voice called from behind me. I kept eye contact with the man I presumed as Dwight. “Back off buddy.”

Dwight hesitated, but lowered his gun. The other followers did the same. I stood still, still looking at Dwight without blinking once. I suddenly felt hot breath on the back of my neck and a soft humming. I shivered inside, but not daring to move a muscle. My ears twitched, as the new mysterious man moved in front of me. The new man wore a grin, and a black leather jacket. He wore a large belt, with khakis and combat boots. He had intimidating brown eyes, and a salt and pepper beard. Just by looking into his eyes I could tell he was crazy. But frankly, so was I.

“Who do we have here?” He grinned, biting his lip. I raised my eyebrow in suspicion. “You’ve got pretty eyes, doll. Wanna show me the rest of your face?”

I remained still, eyes showing no emotion. It was at this point the man lifted his “stick.” The stick was indeed a bloodied baseball bat, covered in rusted barbed wire.

“Pretty please?” He whispered, gesturing his bat to me.

I remembered the woman behind me. I hesitated, but slowly pulled off my scarf, revealing my entire face and hair. My physical appearance was simple. I was a blonde, and kept my hair in a bun to hide it underneath my head scarf. My body was incredibly dirty, but I managed to keep my face clean. To survive, I would use the dead’s entrails on my body to blend in, but I couldn’t stand putting it on my face. I lost track of time, for it was no longer important. I had to be about 20 or 26 years old. The man wooed.

“Damn! We’ve got ourselves a blonde Megan Fox!”

I was disgusted at this man’s flirtatiousness. He has to be 38, 42, maybe 50. People weren’t people anymore. They were animals. He stepped closer to me, his grin still glued in the same position. I was startled when he brought his hand to my chin, tilting it up to him. I frowned instantly, ready to bite his hand off his wrist.

“Easy girl,” he whispered, looking closer at me. “You know, I bet you’d be awfully pretty if you smiled.”

I couldn’t handle it, so I yanked my head away from his hand, my body staying still. I wanted to kick him in the nuts and run, but I knew that wasn't an option if I wanted to live to see tomorrow.

“Woah!” The man laughed, stepping back, carelessly swinging his baseball bat. “Feisty! I like that." There was a moment of him just staring at me. “You got a name, sweetheart?”

“What the fuck do you want.” I hissed, surprised at how confident I sounded. To be honest, I felt as if I was about to die or be raped, or both.

“Well that’s an aggressive way of speaking to someone who wants a friendly conversation.” The man fake-frowned.

I rolled my eyes. In my left hand, I was clutching to the Ibuprofen box from the woman's bag, and the two pocket knives. I tossed them to the man, but he didn’t catch them. His group tensed up, raising their guns slightly.

“You want em’? Take them.” I growled. The man laughed loudly.

“I don’t want her supplies,” he started. “I want you.”

His words were like daggers in my spine. I finally moved, stepping away from him. Anxiety struck me. There had to be at least 20 men plus him. I was a 5’6 woman who was fairly thin and starving. They were healthy and strong. All sorts of scenarios that could happen to me flashed in my mind, and the man sensed it.

“Woah sweetie, don’t jump to conclusions. I’m not like that.” He chuckled. I was still tense, my body debating to stay put or run for the hills. In this world, trust is non existent. “I want you to work for me.”

I scoffed at his statement.

“I work alone.” I snarled, eyeing his members.

“Really? Cause I have a hell of an offer.” He smiled, stepping closer. I raised my brow at him. “You work for me, you get a room, a shower, and a life worth living,” he started, wincing at my clothes. They were tattered and torn, soaked in blood that did and didn’t belong to me. “Or, I let you live another day,” he continued, still smiling. He suddenly took a large step to me, his face inches from mine. “And the next day I hunt you down and kill you with Lucille.”

I raised my brow again, in question. He stepped back, lifting his bat.

“Meet Lucille. My favorite gal.” He twisted the bat, poking the barbs. “Although you’re giving her a run for her money.” He winked. I wanted to vomit. “I am everywhere, trust me. You won’t get by. I will find you, and I will kill you.” The man smiled, eyeing my lips.

“What’s in it for me?” I spat. “What’s the catch?”

“Only one. You show us to your group.”

I scoffed again.

“I said before. I work alone.”

The man shook his head. “I don’t tolerate liars, sweetie.”

“And I don’t tolerate low life fuckers who kill to get what they want.” I growled. His group winced, looking at the man, and back at me.

“Oh we’re gonna have fun, darlin’.”

There was a pause, then the man nodded to a group member. Before I could turn around, I was pistol whipped in the back of the head.

******************************

I woke up in a dark, dark room. One sliver of light shown into my muggy, concrete room. I had a raging headache, and felt incredibly dizzy. I fully came to and remembered how I “passed out.” _Bastards!_ I crawled to the light source, realizing it was a door. I pounded and pounded, calling out,

“Fucker! Open this door!”

I no longer had my backpack or scarf, but I still had my torn, bloody clothes. The sound of music suddenly blasted my ears, a song I had never heard before.

“ _We’re on east street. And it feels so sweet._ ”

“Hello?!” I screamed, my voice scratched.

My vision became blurry, and I stumbled back, hitting a concrete wall. The song continued to play, and kept relooping and relooping. I had passed out from dizziness and the constant pounding in my head. My blood sugar was low, and I had no energy, which was dangerous for the fact I was in a dangerous place. When I came to once more, the song was still playing, and the room was still mostly dark.

I decided to lay there, and focus on my breathing. _Stay conscious. You need to remember_.

I lay there for a while, when the ear worm of a song stopped, and the door unlatched and opened, letting light pour in. My eyes had to adjust to the figure standing before me, but I recognized it to be Dwight. I snarled at him, growling like a dog. He darted at me, dragging me upward and hoisting me to my feet. My legs felt like jelly, so I unfortunately had to lean against him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” He asked angrily.

“Let… me go!” I breathed, the urge to vomit strong. Dwight scoffed and sighed under his breath,

“Weak.”

Dwight dragged me across halls. They all looked like a prison, with endless corridors, all a similar color and texture. He finally shoved me into a room with drains in it. I gathered my strength to lean against a tile wall. I went to turn around, but was blasted with something freezing cold and forceful. I lost all my breath and couldn’t even scream. With a hose, Dwight was spraying me down like a dog with freezing water. I finally came to my senses and let out a few painful screams. The water was high pressure and freezing, hitting me like multiple rocks. My legs gave out, and I curled into a ball against the wall, shielding myself from the water. It seemed like a life time went by before Dwight turned off the hose. I sat there shivering, soaking wet. The water surrounding me was pink and black, a benign mixture of blood and mud.

“You’re lucky, you know.” Dwight hissed, picking me up again. My limbs were so stiff from the water. I was no longer dizzy, but Dwight still dragged me all the way back to my cell. He threw me in, slamming the door behind me. It wasn't long before he blasted the song again.

_“We’re on easy street, and it feels so sweet.”_


End file.
